


Can you hear these dreams? (Calling out your name, can you hear them?)

by larrycaring



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (the first time though), 19th Century, :), Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Royalty, I am quite proud of it, I would definitely love to hear your thoughts, M/M, Modern Era, Painter Harry, Past, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Reincarnation, Royal Louis, Royalty, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, and probably because i have a wild imagination too, but I am only tagging this because of:, please give it a go though :D, present, this story has entirely been created after one of my personal experiences lmao, this story is actually my little gem, twin flames, vivid dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrycaring/pseuds/larrycaring
Summary: After visiting an ancient royal castle in France, Harry is haunted by the portrait of a young man who seems familiar beyond explanation.





	Can you hear these dreams? (Calling out your name, can you hear them?)

**Author's Note:**

> It’s the first time since I’ve started writing fan fictions than writing a story has never felt this easy. I literally couldn’t stop writing. Everything came naturally. I guess it helped that this story is kind of based on a personal experience.
> 
> And so… Just a thing I wanna say before I let y’all read this:
> 
> I do believe in reincarnation, but in no way I claim to be an expert. I have read many stories and testimonies, the different facets of reincarnation… It’s all up to you how you choose to believe in reincarnation, and what exactly you believe in. (If you believe in reincarnation at all.) If not, I hope you will enjoy this story nonetheless. Keep an open mind, people. :)
> 
> Thank you to my baby [Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HER0NSHAW/pseuds/HER0NSHAW/works) for beta'ing this, even when she was at a club partying. I love you so much, you are a legend.

“Harry, you can’t take pictures!”

Harry immediately lowered his camera following his cousin’s words. He grimaced, and it earned him a giggle from Ella.

“You’re sure?”

Ella pursed her lips, trying to bite back another smile as she pointed to the wall. Sure enough, there was a small sign displayed, right by the door they had just come in from. Undeniably, two words were written:  **No photography** , with an image of a black camera crossed out.

Harry pouted and turned his camera off, and, just in case, looked around him to see if a member of the castle staff had seen him. Once he deemed he was safe, he exhaled a relieved breath.

Ella went to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. There was a playful grin on her face, her freckles even laughing at Harry. “You’ve got no excuse, it wasn’t even written in French, H.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. It wasn’t that he was bad at French, mind you, but his cousin Ella and her brothers were ahead of the curve. They’d been living in France for more than a decade now, while the only french Harry knew was from school. Perhaps visiting his family over summer for the last past years had helped him a little, but he still wasn’t fluent. At least, he didn’t think so.

Oh, how little, young Harry had cried when his aunt — his mother’s sister and the mother of Ella, Ben, and Matthew — announced they were moving to a different country. He had cried for hours before his mother Anne managed to calm him down. She had promised seven-year-old Harry that they’d visit them and she had kept her promise. Every summer, Harry was lucky enough to be able to visit his family.

They lived in  _ Indre-Et-Loire _ , a department in west-central France. Summers were warm, but what Harry loved most about  _ la Loire _ was the architecture of the houses. They were so different from the ones back home. Oh, and  _ les châteaux _ … God, the castles were the best part. The department had, incontestably, the best castles in the country. And Harry? Well, he’d always loved castles.

When he was six years old, he had declared to his parents that he wanted to become a house cleaner. But, wait for it, a housekeeper in castles. Thirteen years later and he was now attending university. Of course, since then, his career choice had drastically changed, but castles were still something he really was interested in. He could watch an endless amount of documentaries without growing bored of it. At some point, he even started thinking he must have lived in a castle, or several, during his previous lives. Gemma had laughed at his dotty thoughts, snickering that, “Since you’re obsessed with cooking, you probably were a cook instead or summat.” And honestly, who knew? Maybe Harry had cooked for aristocratic families in the past.

“It is a shame though,” Harry said, pouting once again for good measure. “This cabinet is really dope.”

Ella hummed in response, and they both fell quiet as they observed _Le_ _Cabinet Orléans-Penthièvre_. It was the first room you could access when you arrived in the Orléans apartments. And apparently, whoever was in charge of the decoration back then had loved using red.

The crimson stripped wallpaper covered all the walls, with matching darker red curtains over the single window of the room. The drapes were parted, allowing the cabinet to be basked in sunlight. The polished wooden desk was particularly shining as it was placed by the window. The same thing could be said about the polished floor. There was a thin carpet placed in the middle of the room, with two wooden armchairs and a small oval table between them. Even the golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling had a touch of red.

But what drew Harry’s attention though, was the marble fireplace, surrounded by two paintings on each side, with a huge mirror above it. His cousin Ben joined him, leaning forward to squint at the placard under one of the paintings. “This painting on the left is  _ Louis-Jean Marie de Bourbon _ ,  _ Duc de Penthièvre _ ,” he read.

“And this one,” said Matthew, nosed buried in the little guide book they got at the entry of the château, “Is  _ Adélaïde de Bourbon-Penthièvre _ , widow of  _ Louis-Jean Marie _ .”

Harry hated how ridiculously good their French pronunciation was, and he did not comment, taking a look at his own guide. His French was limited, and he almost regretted not getting the audio guide, but he hadn’t wanted to feel excluded from the world. He could always rely on his cousins anyway. They’d been translating some interesting facts now and then. There was also a woman commentating the whole tour in French. She was already in the other room, talking to the group.

Harry and his cousins quickly joined everybody, and he was not surprised to find the same dominant colour in the next room. It was as red as the  _ Cabinet Orléans-Penthièvre _ . The Chamber of Orléans had the same wallpaper and wooden floor, with the same types of furniture as well. The only divergence was the paintings on the walls. One particularly caught his eyes, of a man in a uniform. It looked like an official portrait, for he had a serious look on his aged face.

“It’s King  _ Louis-Philippe Ier _ ,” Ben murmured to Harry since the tour guide was speaking in French, the group of tourists attentively listening to her. There were maybe ten or eleven people in the room, so it was relatively a small group. The woman said something again and slightly turned to point at something. Harry followed her gaze and spotted a bust near one of the portraits.

“And that’s him again,” Ben nodded with his chin. Harry nodded silently while they listened to the tour guide, Ben occasionally chipping in to translate some bits. It was only when the crowd parted a little, some already going to the other room, that Harry stopped and observed what seemed to be toys by the gigantic bed, displayed on the floor.

Ella noticed his gaze and spoke. “These are toys the kids of Louis-Philippe offered to his kids.” She frowned a little as she pointed to one of the toys. “Seriously, what a creepy doll.” Harry had to agree. Even as of today, he thought of dolls as horrendously creepy.

“It almost looks like Annabelle,” Matt chimes in with a titter.

Harry tutted. “Please, no spoilers. I have yet to watch it.”

“She kills people,” Ella deadpanned, but Harry walked away, making a show of covering his ears. He still could hear his cousins laughing behind his back. As for a payback, he decided to not wait for them and followed the rest of the crowd into the next room.

Of course, as a result, he did not understand a thing of what was being said. So instead of trying to comprehend what the tour guide was saying, he let his eyes wander on the room. It was as red as the two previous ones had been. The sign by the door he had come in said,  **Le Salon de Musique** , and at least he could understand that. He didn’t even need to read the translation below, that said,  **The Music Room** .

And indeed it was. There was a grand piano in the middle of the room, enlightened by the rays of sunshine passing through the window. There was even a harpe near the piano, and some more wooden furniture spread across the room. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same if there weren’t paintings covering the walls as well.

There was a portrait of a man, and another of a woman. There was another bigger painting, depicting a woman and two children in what looked like a garden. Maybe it was the garden behind this very castle? He didn’t know since he hadn’t seen it yet.

And then, Harry’s eyes fell on the painting near him, and he… he was unable to take his eyes off it. Or rather, he could not stop looking at the portrait of the young man. The painting was such a contrast to the entire room. The sun bathed the music room yet the atmosphere still felt sombre, the room a dark red colour.

The portrait was another story. It was a bright painting, standing out from all the ones Harry had seen so far. The young man had sandy hair, parted on one side. The crown of a tall hat could be seen in his hand, apparently having chosen not to wear it for the occasion. Or perhaps it was because of his surroundings because it was hot? The young man seemed to be standing outside, maybe in the garden as well but Harry wasn’t sure.

The background was so very bright that all Harry could discern was a brick white wallpaper. Harry wondered if it was the exterior of the castle and where that place was located. There was a small fountain mounted against the wall, it’s stone the same stark white. What was funny was that there were two plants standing on each side of the painting, and they almost looked like they were part of it. They were the only touch of green in the room - the only slice of nature.

And the man’s attire… In contrast with the bright, white background, he was wearing all black. His silhouette revealed broad shoulders and a tightly cinched waist. He was wearing black fly-front trousers and a dark cravat that hung at the base of his throat. His coat was as dark as the accessory.

And his face… The young man looked serious, but Harry swore he could feel the smirk on the boy’s mouth. His lips were painted thin and the nose was beautifully done, looking almost shiny with a touch of lighter colour. And the eyes… Harry could not discern the true colours but they looked either grey or blue. 

He was only snapped out of his contemplation when his cousins joined him. He forced himself to detach his gaze from the painting and he felt like he was awakening from a daze - like the image had drawn him into another time. That was… odd.

The tour guide must have sensed their interest in the particular portrait because she gestured towards it, speaking in French. Harry eagerly turned to Ella once the woman was done, awaiting the translation. 

“Who was he?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

His cousin licked her lips and looked between the painting and her guidebook. “Umm, it’s Prince Louis of Orléans, Duke of Nemours. His full name was  _ Louis Charles Philippe Raphaël d'Orléans _ . He was the second son of King Louis-Philippe I of France and his wife Maria Amalia of Naples and Sicily.” She lifted her head when the tour guide said something else. “She said they actually received the painting only a few days ago and they decided to place it here in honour of Prince Louis, who dearly loved this room. Apparently, he used to spend a lot of time here, sometimes with his siblings.”

Harry said nothing, reporting his gaze to the painting as Ella went on with the anecdote. “The painting took place outside, in the  _ Gallerie d’Aumale _ , which was the name of one of Louis’ younger brothers. We saw him on that painting with the other kid and the mom, standing outside.” Harry nodded. “It was said that Louis loved the gallery and the gardens, and he had insisted adamantly for the portrait to happen there.” She glanced back at the guidebook to check something before looking at Harry. “It was done in summer 1834, when he was twenty years old, by one of his closest friends named Henri Castagné.”

Harry nodded wordlessly, unable to look away. The portrait was captivating. Not only did the man look very handsome but he looked quite imposing and powerful. And yet, there was an undeniable softness in his traits that Harry couldn’t decipher. But what was striking was the young man’s eyes. There was something in them — something Harry couldn’t explain.

It was like… When you saw someone in the streets and for a moment you were convinced you‘d seen them before. Or like when you actually thought you knew them despite knowing it was impossible. They were strangers but they didn’t feel like it.

That was how Harry was feeling right now. Everything in the man’s features, even his posture, screamed familiarity. Harry had never felt so confused. He could not detach his gaze from the man and he found himself not wanting to. It was only when people started moving, including his cousins, that Harry knew he had to snap out of it. He didn’t know this man. He couldn’t. 

Reluctantly, he walked away but not without glancing over his shoulder one last time.

**♕♕♕**

He was unable to listen to the tour guide or pay attention to the next room. He was looking at the paintings without really looking and when the group's attention was drawn to some object in the room, Harry looked over his shoulder to the door — to Prince Louis enclosed in the panting. He could see the Music Room and he ached to go back. It was stupid.

With a quick look around, Harry realised that no one would care, or even notice, if he went back. It wasn’t like it was forbidden, far from it. So Harry took his opportunity. He went back to the music room.

There was only one person who had lingered behind and Harry threw the young woman a smile as he approached the striking portrait that wouldn’t let Harry live.

In each room of the castle, there was a delimitation, a rope, that you couldn’t get over. Harry’s knees were touching it. He was standing so close, trying to drink in all the details of the portrait.

He could see the man’s eyes better now. They were a blue-ish colour, as bright as the daylight. The painter had captured the boy’s fair skin perfectly, with the right amount of light and shadow here and there. The skin looked smooth, almost flawless. Harry wondered what it would feel to the touch him — if the paint was smooth. The whole texture of the painting seemed like it would be. It was in such good condition that Harry felt like it was an open window to another world. If he could step in he’d find himself in the  _ Gallerie _ , near the gardens. The scenery felt lively… And as Harry stared, his eyes feeling transfixed by the Prince’s gaze, he felt like he was truly there. He was living in his moment… Like Louis was standing right in front of Harry’s very own eyes…

“Harry, you comin’?”

Harry startled, swirling on the spot. Ella was standing by the doorway, watching him expectantly. Whatever look was on Harry’s face, it made her frown. “Are you okay, H?”

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out. His mouth felt dry and when he licked his lips it was almost like his tongue was sandpaper. He found himself nodding after a while, just to fill the space. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

Ella nodded with a small smile and gestured for him to follow as she disappeared into the next room. Harry looked around the Music Room only noticing now that he was actually alone. With another swift look around the room and a lingering gaze on Louis, he turned his camera on and stole a few pictures.

**♕♕♕**

“And outside these doors,” the tour guide started saying in French, “We have the  _ Gallerie _ .”

Harry’s head almost snapped up at the last word. He eagerly followed the group outside, his eyes already searching for that particular spot.

Ben, oblivious to Harry’s real intention, admired the gardens with him. Reading what was said on the guidebook, he told Harry, “The garden was redone many times. All the works were completed in 1811.” He frowned in concentration as he continued. “Blah blah blah, Louis-Philippe, the future king of France, undertook renovations to transform the château into a ‘holiday destination’.” That was Louis’ father, Harry remembered. (First of all, who thought it was a good idea for people to constantly have the same goddamn name?)

Harry nodded, tempted to ask Ben if the book said anything about Louis, but instead he chose to stay quiet and admire the beautiful garden.

“You know,” his cousin huffed, closing the book. “There’s way too much information in there but if you’re that interested, I think the château has a website where you can read everything in English.”

Harry turned to gape at his cousin then barked out a laugh. “Ben, you’re brilliant!” He knew what he had to do tonight. But first…

He’d found it. Here it was, the background of the painting. Harry walked towards an arch that Harry was almost certain Louis had been painted under. The fountain confirmed it. It was strange to stand in the very same place where a historical figure had been standing; this place was full of memories. People from another century had come here… so many famous monarch’s. But Harry’s interest was only captivated by one person.

Prince Louis of Orleans, Duke of Nemours…

**♕♕♕**

“Need help with the dishes, auntie?”

Harry’s aunt, who liked to be called ‘Dee’ and not her full name, shook her head with a smile. “No dear, I’ll take care of it.”

Ben hit Harry’s shoulder playfully, “No one likes a suck-up, Haz.”

Matt and Ella cackled as they all stood up from the table while Harry glared at him, “I’m just polite. I’m not lazy like you.”

His uncle laughed at his words, gesturing to his eldest son with his spoon. The man had served himself some more fruit salad, his plate overflowing with colour. Harry had to admit his aunt’s recipe was the best. “Well said, Harry.”

“Hey, dad,” Ben argued, throwing his hands in the air, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

His sister shook him by the shoulders, “Come on, stand up! Let’s all play a card game!”

“Ugh, again!?” Matt whined. Harry smirked. His cousin was just a sore loser and was still bitter because of his defeat the night before.

“Take it as an opportunity to have your revenge,” he told him. Matt grinned slowly.

“Let’s go, then!”

**♕♕♕**

The night passed rather quickly, in spite of Harry’s burning desire to quench his questions. He wanted to do some research. He wanted to know more about Louis but his cousins, as always, made the evening fun and ever extending. They had wasted so many hours playing Cards Against Humanity and even Matt had managed to score a few points, albeit eventually.

And only now, as Harry was laying down on his mattress and Matty snoring loudly already, did he have a free moment, Harry had always admired his cousin’s ability to fall asleep immediately. Harry didn’t have that talent. Tonight sleep was impossible for Harry. His mind was too busy. If he was honest, it was still somewhere in the château, stood in the centre of the music room.

Unlocking his phone, Harry winced at the luminosity attacking his fatigued eyes. He really should activate the automatic adjustment option but he always forgot.

Opening Safari, he racked his brain to will himself to remember what the château was called. He then remembered the location was activated on his photos and so he opened his gallery, pleased to see that the location had been documented. 

**Château d’Amboise, France.**

It was a distracting idea. Among the numerous pictures of the outside of the castle, Prince Louis stood out. The portrait was magnificent- haunting. 

Harry thought his pictures didn’t do justice but he had a feeling Google would have many other images of the portrait. At least he hoped so.

Opening the search engine, Harry’s fingers moved fast as he typed his enquiry.  _ Prince Louis, Amboise _ . He couldn't remember for the life of him the full name. (Who thought it was cool for aristocratic peeps to have the same names  _ and _ so many additional names anyway?)

The first result that came up was a Wikipedia page, except it was entirely written in French. When Harry still clicked, he realised quickly it was the wrong Louis. That Louis, called  _ Louis d’Amboise _ , was born in the 14th century. His Wikipedia image was a drawing of his body in his apparent tomb. Grim.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes while rubbing his forehead. Why couldn't he remember the full name? He recalled Ella had used another title besides Prince, some Duke of whatever the name was. Harry groaned when he couldn’t come up with anything.

He turned his head, pushing himself up on his elbows to peer over his cousin. Matty was still very much asleep and thankfully his snores had lowered in dissonance.

Harry smiled to himself, carefully sitting up as he shed light on the room with his phone. Spotting his bag by Matty’s desk, he soundlessly reached for it, where he knew he’d find the guidebook in the first pocket.

He settled back on his mattress and in his haste, holding his phone in his hand promptly dropped it on his face. “Oomph,” he said in a whisper, his nose hurting and almost pulsing at the impact. He brought the guidebook to his nose, appreciating the temporary coolness of the paper against his skin.

Shaking his head and blinking, he brought his attention back to the matter at hand. Using the luminosity of his screen as a torch, he started flipping the pages, reading between the lines; his eyes stopped whenever he found the word ‘Louis’. Which happened a lot since, you know, they all had the same name.

Finally, he found the page concerning the music room and finally, he found what he was looking for. 

There wasn’t much information on Prince Louis, only the anecdote that Ella had shared with him. There were pictures of the paintings that were hung in the room but no picture of Louis’ portrait. Which made sense, since Ella had mentioned that it had only been recently added to the room.

Glancing from the names to his phone, Harry typed them and entered his google search. (He typed, ‘ _ Louis Charles Philippe Raphaël d'Orléans _ .’. Yes, all the names.) The first result seemed definitely right, and thank God, it was a Wikipedia page written in English.

Harry dropped the guidebook on his mattress, the book settling with a soft sound on his thighs, and clicked on the first link. He was so grateful that Wikipedia website loaded so quickly, the paragraphs popping up almost immediately.

His reading could now begin.

The first paragraph didn’t bring him new information. It talked about who Louis was; the son of a king. The only brand new information was the date of birth and death. 25 October 1814 and 26 June 1896. Prince Louis had apparently died at age 81, in Versailles, and was buried at  _ La Chapelle royale de Dreux _ . The infobox card on the Wikipedia page showed a picture but unlike the portrait, in this one, he looked older. Definitely older than thirty years old.

The portrait actually looked quite ridiculous, because it seemed Prince Louis was standing on the beach, except the dimensions weren’t really proportional. The man looked like a giant on the beach and the sea behind him looked like a puddle more than an entire ocean.

The text zone dedicated to his childhood was definitely not like Harry’s childhood. It talked about where he was born (Palais Royal, in Paris), and that at only twelve years old, Prince Louis was nominated colonel of the first regiment of  _ chasseurs _ . 

Harry shook his head, forever amazed at how things were so much different back then.

The mention of Constantine caught Harry’s eyes. Apparently, Prince Louis had accompanied some Algerian expedition against the town in the autumn of 1836 before being entrusted with the command of a brigade of the siege operation; a generation before Constantine.

It seemed Prince Louis had also travelled a lot on the sea, sailing to diverse places and serving under Generals. There were more expeditions — more missions… His life certainly hadn’t been dull.

Harry didn’t understand why everything written there was underneath the Childhood section. The text said nothing about Louis’ childhood, adulthood or personal life. Harry wondered if he ever was going to find this kind of information and dreaded that he wouldn’t.

Still, he kept reading, eager to get to know more. When his eyes reached the next section, his stomach churned. He didn’t know why. The paragraphs were all about Prince Louis’ relationship. He had married Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, at the  _ Château de Saint-Cloud _ . That was all Harry could find about any romantic related topics in this section, only because it then moved to more formal stuff and a tragic event in Prince Louis’ life: The death of his brother, Ferdinand, Duke of Orleans, in 1842.

Harry kept reading, frowning in concentration. His eyes started aching at some point. He usually didn’t like to read in the dark like that, but he didn’t want to switch the light on, mainly because Matty was still sleeping.

When Harry glanced at the clock, he realised it was actually pretty late, almost 3:21am. He was pretty sure he and his cousins had gone to bed around 2am. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his right hand and realised then that he was actually pretty sleepy. He wanted to keep reading, but he didn’t know if he could last.

So, locking his iPhone, he decided he’d go back to his research tomorrow.

**♕♕♕**

_ Fingers stroked up his arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Harry smiled, turning his head to the side, cheek touching the pillow as warm lips pressed gentle kisses to his throat. He felt a smile against his skin along with a hot breath exhaled into the crook of his neck. _

_ Harry arched his back at the hard thrust, biting down on his bottom lip so hard he didn’t even care if it drew blood. The lips moved from his neck to his left ear, a tongue licking his earlobe before soft words were spoken — panted — into his ear. “I want to hear you, my love.” _

_ He almost huffed but instead, a gasp was pulled from him after another delicious, hard thrust. “You know we cannot be heard,” he managed to reply, not even caring how breathless he sounded. _

_ Teeth nipped at his earlobe and Harry rolled his own hips, meeting the other body so deeply buried in him. “I can do whatever I wish,” his lover replied softly in his ear. A hand then buried into Harry’s hair, fingers twirling around the dark curls. Then there was a pull and another thrust, and many kisses peppered on Harry’s jaw. “I want to hear you.” _

_ “Louis!” _

**♕♕♕**

Harry woke up with a start, almost screaming the name. He stayed still a moment, completely mortified when he realised what had just happened. Did he just have a fucking wet dream? Because of the things he was reading last night? God, he couldn’t believe this. And he was definitely not hard, thank you very much.

Harry’s hands fumbled for this phone and it took him a few seconds to find it because he forgot he had slipped it under his pillow. Checking the time, he was almost relieved when he noted it was near nine o’clock. It was a decent hour to wake up, even though he knew Matty was definitely going to sleep in.

As quietly as possible, Harry rushed to the bathroom for a cold, awakening shower. He tried not to think of how  _ real _ this dream had felt.

**♕♕♕**

It felt weird that Harry’s dream never vanished from his mind, even after a whole day passed. Usually, he really had trouble remembering them. But not that one. It was ingrained into his memory.

His brain would happily rewind the dream, sending images to Harry’s mind even when he really didn’t want to think about them. And each time Harry was overcome with a specific sensation... That feeling when you were thinking back at a memory you’d lived. Except, he was one hundred percent sure he never had a sexual intercourse like that one. (No offence to his previous boyfriends.) He was sure the universe was actually laughing at him — mocking him for his inexperience.

As they were about to leave for a restaurant in town, Ella was thoroughly engrossed in a documentary on Louis XIV,  _ Le Roi Soleil _ and his extravagant demure in Versailles. (Again, why the fuck did they decide it was a good idea to be all named like this?)

“Harry, you okay, hun?”

Harry blinked, averting his gaze from the now turned off TV to his aunt. Were the royals following him, even in real life? “Yes, um, yes!”

Ella giggled beside him, shaking her head as she laced their arms together. “Let’s go eat, I’m famished.”

**♕♕♕**

_ “Did I just get an earful of your stomach rumbling, my Prince?” Harry asked, his words cut off by the giggles escaping his mouth. His head was resting against his lover’s torso, and he felt the vibrations of Louis’ groan underneath him. _

_ “I’m famished. Have some respect.” _

_ Harry pushed himself up on one elbow, his other arm still thrown over his Prince’s chest. “Always,” he replied softly, leaning down to steal a kiss. But Louis did not let go, his arms cupping the back of his neck, fingers getting lost in Harry’s hair. Their mouths connected once again. It was gentle, simple, and perfect. Harry sighed against his lover’s mouth when they parted. _

_ When he blinked his eyes open, the ocean was staring back at him. There was a softness around the edges and a fondness that almost overflowed. After only a year Harry had thrown his whole heart into this ocean, his protector guarding it. The love in his gaze had never faltered. _

_ “I love you, my dear Henri Lionel Castagné.” _

_ “I love you, Louis Charles Philippe Raphaël d'Orléans.” _

**♕♕♕**

Harry woke up, a tickling sensation left on his lips. He brought a hand to his mouth, exhaling a shaky breath against his fingers. 

What the hell was happening to him? 

He didn’t know why he was suddenly obsessing over Prince Louis, so much so that he was now having dreams. Sure, the portrait he had seen at the castle had captivated him but it clearly had disturbed something deep within Harry’s subconscious, because—

Harry gasped, bolting upright on the mattress. In the corner of his eye, he noted that Matty was already awake, his bed empty, which was extremely odd since Harry never overslept. But in a way, he was grateful he was alone because he was probably going through an existential crisis right now.

He threw the sheet off him, taking a giant step to reach his phone he had left plugged in on the other side of the room. He didn’t even check his notifications, his fingers already moving to open Safari. He might be going crazy but it was something he had to check.

With shaking fingers — god, why was he shaking? — he typed the words he was too afraid to ever speak. 

_ Vivid dreams reincarnation _ . 

He didn’t hesitate once before he clicked on the first link suggested, entitled “ _ 7 Signs You've Had A Past Life _ .”

He was really going to do this, then.

**♕♕♕**

“Harry!”

He closed Safari, snapping his head up as Matty’s head peeked around the door. “A friend invited me over to his pool. Wanna join?”

Harry had spent the last hour reading diverse things about reincarnation while Ella was off at some friend’s and Ben was working. He’d been unable to read anything at first, not because of a lack of will but rather because he had spent some time with his cousin, Matty. The only reason why he was granted an hour of peace was because Matty had chosen to nap at some point in the afternoon.

And as he’d guessed… He’d really needed the distraction. He needed to take his mind off the improbable and insane thoughts forming in Harry’s mind. His sister always said he had a fertile imagination.

“I’m in.”

**♕♕♕**

“So, tell me, Harry,” Matty’s friend, Timothée, started saying with his French accent. “Have you been enjoying  _ La Touraine _ so far?”

Harry stopped the agitation of his feet in the water. He was sat on the edge, water still dripping from his skin after the swim he’d just had. He smiled at Timothée.  _ Touraine _ was the name for the province, and he always found the word funny. “Oui, j’adore,” he answered, proud to somehow use his limited French vocabulary. He wanted to be a cool cousin, okay?

Matty grinned, laughing and waving his arms in the water. “Tu parles! C’est le paradis pour lui, il adore les châteaux de La Loire.” Swiftly translated as:  _ You don’t say! It’s like heaven for him, he loves the châteaux of La Loire. _

Harry scrunched his nose. He thought he understood most of the words. But for good measure, he splashed some water in his cousin’s face with his left foot. Matty retaliated while Timothée barked a laugh, apparently entertained by the banter.

“I’m gonna sunbathe,” Harry declared a few minutes later, sticking his tongue out at his cousin. Matty rolled his eyes but nodded. 

While Harry was still living in England, he managed to get tans during summer. The same thing couldn’t be said for his cousin. He and his siblings were always so pale and if they’d try to get a tan without sunscreen, you could be sure they’d turn as red as a beetroot. Or maybe red like the rooms of the  _ château d’Amboise... _

Harry shook his head, sprawling himself on his towel. It was an ugly old thing that his auntie had found for him. (He had forgotten to pack one, sue him.) The colours were blue and green, and there were several loose threads but Harry liked it nonetheless. For now, it was comfortable enough for him to lie down and let the sun touch his skin for a while.

He didn’t know how long he was laid down for, arms under his head as a pillow, but eventually, the sound of voices started fading and the warmth was too good. It didn’t take long for his eyes to fall closed and then he was dozing off in an instant.

**♕♕♕**

_ “I want you to paint me.” _

_ Harry’s head snapped towards Louis. They were sitting in the garden on a bench tucked between the flowers. The comforting and familiar silence between them hadn’t been stretching for long. It was never long or awkward between them, everything was always comfortable. And yet, at Louis’ request, Harry’s cheeks warmed. It wasn’t helping that the sun was aggressive that afternoon. _

_ “Why would you want such a thing, Your Highness?” _

_ Harry was sure he could spot the ghost of a smirk on Louis’ face. The royal young man was still looking ahead, observing the garden. Or maybe he was pretending. Usually, his eyes were always on Harry but under the public eye, they couldn’t be that possessive over each other. Still, Harry liked to observe his Prince. Maybe he shouldn’t let his gaze linger but he couldn’t help but try... _

_ “I would very much like a portrait of me standing over there,” Louis pointed towards the château — to one of the many arches of the building. _

_ Harry frowned in thought, bringing his gaze back to his lover. “There are so many other good spots around the garden...” _

_ This time Louis looked at him, the right corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Does that mean you will paint me?” _

_ Harry felt fingers wrapping around his own. Their joined hands were hidden between their thighs — tucked carefully in the shadows. They’d have to part soon but while he still could, Harry enjoyed the touch. _

_ He squeezed Louis’ hand in response. _

**♕♕♕**

The next day, Harry had come to a decision. A crazy one, but he knew he had to do it.

“Hey, Matty, can I borrow your bike today?”

Matty smiled around a spoonful of cereal, “Only if you give me the French word for ‘bike’.”

Harry gave his cousin an unimpressed look. “Vélo?”

Matty laughed, “You can.”

**♕♕♕**

Harry couldn’t believe he was doing this. He’d already visited the château, for God’s sake, but the pull was so intense that he couldn’t ignore it. He didn’t know what all of this meant, if the hours he wasted on reading about reincarnation were worth anything in this scenario, but Harry just knew he had to come back.

Because the dreams he’d keep having? No way were they due to his imagination. No matter how creative Gemma thought he was.

He stood a long moment outside the castle admiring the building and the architecture. Everything.

It was even sunnier than the last time he had come with his cousins. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and the château looked like a dégradé of colours. First white, because of the architecture, and then it went from the ebony colour of the roof to the bright blue sky above.

The château sat perched on a riverside with the village below. As Harry rested his elbows on the edge of the balustrade, he wondered if he had done this before. What was the view back then?

Harry turned around, letting his gaze wander over the large garden area. It was so masterfully crafted. Harry had listened attentively to the audio that had spilt all the information on the beauty of the castle grounds.

There weren’t that many tourists on this Wednesday and he appreciated that. He tried to picture the place without all those people and when he started thinking back about his vivid dream, his legs worked on their own. He walked, trying to find the spot where Louis had been sitting. Where  _ he and Louis _ had been sitting.

Shit, Harry was really going crazy, wasn’t he?

“Excusez-moi,” someone said. It was a young woman, accompanied by a man. A little girl was holding her hand. They were a family, then. “Peux-tu, um…” She trailed off, looking quite panicked.

Harry instantly understood they were tourists. “I speak English,” he informed, grinning when the couple breathed in relief.

“Oh, fantastic,” the girl said. Harry couldn’t discern the accent, but she was certainly American. “I am sorry, but would you mind taking a picture of us?” She pointed towards one of the many giant picture frames placed here and there in the garden. Harry and his cousins had taken several pictures as well.

“Sure, of course!”

“Thank you so much.”

When it was done, the family walked away, the little girl waving adorably at Harry. He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. He wondered what happened to him, in his previous life. Did he have children? He couldn’t believe he hadn’t googled himself. Surely there was a page somewhere about him. For God’s sake, even Ella had mentioned something about a Henri… God…

Harry closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He was literally getting ahead of himself but at this point, he had no logical explanation. And the conclusion he had come up with seemed quite plausible… Or maybe he wanted it to be. But then, there were those dreams and they were so real… They felt like…

Memories.

**♕♕♕**

Revisiting the room while taking all his time in the world AND having an English spoken person explaining things to you in your ears, was definitely easier for Harry to project himself in the past. As if his dreams weren’t enough.

And while he didn’t know what he expected by coming back, he hoped that knowing he’d walked in these rooms before might trigger his memory eventually. Except… It wasn’t like that. He really did not know what he had expected.

He just knew that, when he was in the kitchen, he swore he could hear hearty laughter, a phantom of a familiar silhouette swirling around the room. When he was back in the Music Room, he could imagine Prince Louis, playing the piano.

While they were in the Renaissance aisle, it was time for Harry’s group to go visit the souterrains. Harry had paid an extra fee to see that. The tour was only offered in French by the tour guide, a friendly guy who spoke a bit of English. But Harry didn’t care, he still wanted to explore the underground level.

He was not disappointed.

As he let his hand touch the earth walls, he was amazed by the depth of the tunnels. The place was so ancient, full of history, and Harry’s eyes couldn’t stay still, looking everywhere. His mind was being fed with information and he wondered what his subconscious would come up with tonight.

**♕♕♕**

When he stepped outside, right into the  _ Gallerie,  _ he realised how stupid he had been earlier. He had been trying to spot where the Louis in his memory had been sitting, when it was clear as day now that it was in the garden, behind the castle. He had remembered coming here with his cousins last time, but he wasn’t sure where exactly the arches were.

Harry did not know how long he stayed under the arch, right in front of the little fountain. He must look like a weirdo, eyes traveling up and down the wall as he tried to picture the Prince. Had he really been standing there? Was he Henri, a young man who painted a young Prince? Two men, sharing a love no one could know about...

Harry frowned. He never lived in the closet. He was lucky enough to have had a supporting family, and even all of his friends were accepting. At school, it wasn’t like he had screamed his sexuality atop the roof, but he hadn’t had any unpleasant experience. University was so much richer for him, in term of academy knowledge and in term of self-discovery.

Harry’s attention was snapped back to the present as a young group of kids ran past him. They were triplets, he realised upon observing them. They seemed in awe of the gardens, and Harry could relate. As he ventured further, his eyes feasting on the beautiful landscapes. He let his imagination run wild once again.

When he finally found  _ the _ spot, he stopped right in his tracks. Thankfully, not many people were around, so he didn’t appear like an idiot. But it wasn’t his fault. Honestly, he was at a loss of words.

The bench was still there. White and marble… Situated where it should be, on a hill overlooking the property. Harry turned around. He could see the garden spread out. He didn’t know yet if he had the courage to sit down.

But with some willpower, he forced his legs to move. When his behind made contact with the bench, nothing happened. It wasn’t like he had expected the earth to shift around, or to be overtaken by something,  _ anything _ , but… 

He sighed, dropping his shoulders. What was he honestly expecting?

**♕♕♕**

_ “Louis, why are we sneaking to the tunnels?” he asked, his amused laugh resonating. _

_ “It’s fun,” the puckish Prince replied, his smirk visible. Harry was grateful for the torches all around. He liked Louis’ face too much. That was why he brought his right hand to Louis’ cheek, caressing it in a tender gesture. _

_ But it seemed Louis had other things in mind. He pushed Harry against the wall, and it wasn’t like the wallpapered walls of the château. No, down here the walls were rough — cold. Harry winced as his back came into contact with it. “It is not the most pleasant situation I have found myself in,” he joked, smirking in turn. _

_ Right then, Louis’ smile turned sly. It was a sinful one. “I will make it pleasant, my love.” _

_ Harry really wasn’t prepared when his lover dropped, not even wincing when his knees hit the ground with a loud thud. Harry’s breath was already irregular, as Louis’ expert hands and slender fingers found his hips. _

_ Harry thought that one day, his Prince would be the death of him. _

**♕♕♕**

When Harry woke up this time, the first thing he did was look his own name up. Not his current one but the one he thought was his in a previous life. 

Surely at this point, there was no way he was imagining all of this? His dreams were too detailed and felt so real… It was like he felt the Prince’s touches on his skin, the kisses lingering. And even when Louis smiled at him in his dreams, Harry could literally feel his heart fluttering. It triggered butterflies in his stomach.

It was all real.

**Henri Lionel Castagné, most known as HC as he signed his paintings, was born on September 4, 1815, in Paris. He later died on February 23, 1899, at age 83.**

**He was a very respected and talented painter** —

Harry stopped reading a second, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. Opening them again, he wasn’t surprised to find the Wikipedia page still staring back at him. He licked his lips, taking another breath as to brace himself.

His life had been good, if he could say so himself. He had grown up with his mother only, his soldier father passing away in a battle. He was apparently an only child, which made Harry feel a bit weird. He always had Gemma by his side, he could not imagine what it must like to be on his own.

His ascension into the world of artists was very interesting to read. He found himself in awe of himself when he read his achievements and the total of paintings recorded as of now. He could not believe he had done all of that in a previous life.

He didn’t find anything about a romantic partner; no mentioned of marriage. He didn’t know if he was really surprised. He knew that Louis had been the love of Henri’s life and there had been no one else. He wondered if Henri stayed by Louis’ side till the end, even as the Prince married.

And so what interested Harry, and made him anxious as well, was to see if there was anything on his page to read about Louis. The only paragraph mentioning the royal was speaking of how they were ‘close friends’ after they had met during one of Louis’ many visits to Paris. As said here, ‘The Duke of Nemours had instantly taken a liking to Henri’s works’. Harry wondered if it was true, or if Louis had been attracted by something else.

The Wikipedia page also showed a picture of the portrait Henri had done. The very same portrait Harry had seen with his own eyes. The painting currently residing in one of Louis’ favourite rooms. Harry clicked on the picture, allowing himself to zoom in. He caressed the phone screen with his thumb, biting his lip.

When he was about to fall asleep, he realised he was aching for someone he didn’t know in this life, but also for someone who once had been his entire life.

**♕♕♕**

“So my mate who works at Amboise is giving me a few free tickets for the festival.”

Matty and Ella perked up at their brother’s words, while Harry’s attention was grabbed by a specific word. “Amboise?” His cousins didn’t live in the city Amboise itself but a little town nearby, only a few minutes away. “Where is this festival taking place exactly?” Somehow, he already knew the answer.

“Le château d’Amboise , of course,” Ella chimed in, clapping her hands. She had just finished doing her nails. “I’ve never attended the festival. The event is taking place over the entire week, right?”

Harry saw Ben nod from the corner of his eye. They were both sitting on the couch, Ben’s legs propped on the coffee table while Matty was occupying the other couch. There was an armchair available, but Ella had let the cat sit while she sat on the floor. It was a very Ella thing to do.

“Sick, which date are we going then?” Matty enquired, busying himself with changing the TV channels with the telecommand.

Ben looked down to check his phone. “Erm, this Saturday.”

“Oh, Harry, just the night before you leave,” Ella said, not even masking her disappointment. He had been there for two weeks already. He was not looking forward to leaving, but he must admit… He missed his family back home.

He sent her a smile. “That is why we need to fully enjoy this week.”

She nodded at that, returning the smile. “You are right, cousin. Next time you come, we’ll be visiting new  _ châteaux _ we haven’t done. Though I reckon we’ll have them all done in two years times, at the rate we’re going.”

Her brothers laughed, and Harry did too, albeit a bit forced. The words ‘château’ was ringing in his ears, spinning in his mind, closely followed by the name that had been haunting his mind.

He was kind of fucked, wasn’t he?

**♕♕♕**

The week went by so fast, it made Harry want to yell. He didn’t want to leave his cousins but at the same time, the prospect of going home was so appealing. He missed his parents, his sister, his cat, and his bed. Oh, and his friends as well.

There were no more dreams. Which was very strange, and maybe it should have been a relief, but somehow it didn’t make Harry feel completely happy about it. In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure how to feel anyway.

On Wednesday night, Harry found himself spending the rest of the late night with Ella. His aunt and uncle had already been in bed since 9pm, and the boys had decided to call in for the night as well.

So here he was now, eating gummy bears with his cousin on her bed. It was near midnight, but Harry felt wide awake. She seemed to feel the same. And he really did not know how the subject came to be, but suddenly they were talking about the supernatural — ghosts, spirits, and demons. That was when Harry ventured to a certain subject he had been reading too much on for the past days.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Ella’s eyes widened as she threw a candy in her mouth. “Hell yeah! Do you?”

Harry didn’t verbally answer but nodded instead. Ella seemed eager to tackle the subject, and soon enough she was telling Harry how she had watched countless videos, had read tons of testimonies and stories.

“There’s something I wanna say,” Harry started, when Ella had inquired about his opinion. She had excused herself because she felt like she was going ahead of herself, but Harry always liked how she got passionate about stuff. He even liked her even more now that he knew they shared the same interests, and that maybe, possibly, she would not run in the opposite direction if he dared to open his mouth.

“I’m all ears,” she said, chewing on another candy. They had decided ten minutes ago they should stop, for the sake of their teeth, but they were still very much eating the whole box of candies. They were no one to judge though, and they could speak openly. Harry trusted her.

He took a breath, a nervous chuckle escaping his mouth without his consent. “Okay, you’re gonna think I’m crazy—”

“Never.”

Harry loved her so much. “— But I think I’ve actually been experiencing something… Well, I think it’s best if I start from the beginning.”

Ella nodded, looking serious and concentrated, already hanging onto Harry’s every word. She was silent during the entire story, only expressing her astonishment or amazement via her eyes, occasionally widening.

“You’re fucking with me,” she finally blurted out after Harry was done. She looked like Harry had told he was actually a descendant of Louis XIV himself.

Harry shook his head slowly, biting his lip. “I am not.”

“Harry, that’s—”

“Crazy?”

“— Amazing!”

He laughed. “You think so? You don’t think I am making this up?”

Ella frowned. “Why would you? You’re not taking the piss, are ya?”

He shook his head once again. “Nope. You can check my history on my phone. I’ve been wilding because I am freaking out.”

“Huh.” She fell quiet, observing Harry with squinting eyes as if she could read his soul and reach for Henri Castagné himself. “That’s… Amazing,” she repeats. “In all the stories I’ve read, only children can vividly remember things, or experience their past lives through dreams.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, they’re closer to the other side.”

“Exactly! Evidently, visiting the château had triggered something inside you. You’re actually… Remembering?”

Harry shook his head, though, in reality, he should be nodding. He was just still in shock, processing things. “Honestly… My dreams feel so real. Like…”

“You’re reliving memories?”

This time, he nodded. “Definitely.”

Ella opened his mouth, but could not find the right words. She threw a gummy bear in her mouth.

“Amazing.”

**♕♕♕**

Talking to Ella actually made Harry feel 100% better. He didn’t know he needed this until that night. When he slipped under his cover later on, he wondered if all this talk would bring him more memories to relive.

He found himself hoping it would.

**♕♕♕**

_ Harry hadn’t expected the Duke of Aumale to show up so early. He usually liked to keep people waiting. Louis had said that, now that his younger brother was eighteen, he acted like a brat more than usual. _

_ Harry turned around, ready to bow in greeting. However, when his eyes landed on Prince Louis instead, he found himself unable to move. _

_ Louis smiled, hanging his head a little. It wasn’t like him. Wherever Louis walked, he would do so proudly, chin raised up. His eyes would never leave yours when you were talking or he was just observing you. (Harry remembered the first time he had been in Louis’ presence… He had felt slightly intimidated.) But Harry guessed Louis had good reasons to look this cautious. _

_ “Your Highness,” Harry said, too formally. He bowed, knowing fully that there was no one in the room beside themselves. He knew Louis hated it when he did that in private. _

_ “Mr. Castagné,” Louis replied, tone almost soft. It made Harry look up, straightening his posture. He tried to appear indifferent, but he knew that Louis could probably read him well. Harry hated that. _

_ “Should you not be with your wife?” he asked, hearing the coolness of his voice. It was odd, using that tone with Louis. Even when they used to argue, it was never that serious. It was more bickering than fighting. _

_ Prince Louis didn’t even flinch, though his forehead was wrinkled and his gaze seemed haunted. “She is having a stroll outside,” he simply answered, voice so indifferent that it unnerved Harry. He couldn’t help it. He knew Louis had to marry eventually, he was twenty-six years old, for God’s sake, but it didn’t mean he accepted it.  _

_ “Henri—” _

_ Harry was so used to hearing ‘Mr. Castagné’ in public, or ‘my love’ in private, that even his Christian name made his blood boil.  _

_ “Your brother will be arriving soon,” he cut the Prince, which he knew was very, very impolite. He swirled on the spot, pretending to rearrange his paint brushes. King Louis Philippe I had requested Harry’s talent for his fifth son’s birthday. Harry had to paint an excellent portrait, though if he was being honest with himself, no portrait would top the one he had done of Louis. _

_ “Will you look at me?” _

_ Harry took a deep breath and turned to face the Prince again. He knew that he was being a bit cruel. Louis hadn’t had a choice in the matter. It had been his duty. Harry had known that the very first moment they had laid together in bed. Louis had also warned him. Still, the heartache was considerable. _

_ And now that Harry observed the man in front of him, he could see in Louis’ eyes that he was just as tormented by it. _

_ Louis took a step forward but he was still so far away. Harry wanted to reach for him — to tug on his hands and run away with him. “You are the only person,” Louis whispered in a confession. It was five words, but they meant everything that Louis couldn’t voice aloud. ‘You are the only person I love, the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with, the only person who knows me, the only person I could die for.’ _

_ “As you are for me,” Harry whispered back. _

**♕♕♕**

Harry blinked himself awake, a few more tears falling down his cheeks as he did so. He never knew it was truly possible to cry in your sleep. But here he was now.

His heart had never hurt that much.

**♕♕♕**

“Paris, here we come!”

“Ella, it’s too early to be this abnormally joyful,” Matty whined. Harry grinned beside him. He was sitting between his two cousins while Ella was shotgunning with Dee driving. It was seven in the morning, and they were planning on enjoying the capital  _ all day _ . It was very convenient that Tours was only two hours away.

“You aren’t even driving, you lucky champ,” Ben told his brother, rolling his eyes. “You can sleep the journey off.”

Matty pointed a finger at him. “Good idea, bro.”

“Very good idea,” Harry echoed, also pointing a finger.

“Not you too, H,” Ben whined, throwing his head back. “I was counting on you to distract me.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. “I’m sleepy.” He really was, which was unusual. But the thing was, he hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after his last dream and being awoken like this at four in the morning hadn't been very cool.

“Fine, sleeping beauty,” his cousin huffed.

Harry grinned and tried to find a good position to sleep. He caught Ella’s eyes, who was turned in her seat, watching him carefully. He hadn’t told her about his latest dream, but he knew he couldn’t do it right now. He could always text her but the prospect of looking at his screen while the car was moving made his stomach churn.

So instead he closed his eyes, wondering if he would dream of the man who once held his entire heart in his palms.

**♕♕♕**

_ “Why are you laughing, Louis?” _

_ Harry’s head was vibrating with how much Louis was laughing under him. He lifted his head from his lover’s chest, looking at him with wide eyes. Louis just wasn’t stopping. _

_ “I am sorry,” the Prince eventually said, when his laughter died down a little. His head was thrown back against the pillow, his neck presented to Harry. He was so tempted to lean in and lick the glowing skin. The morning sun was touching them just perfectly, and the whole room felt warm. Louis’ skin looked beautiful, and with the white sheet covering his legs, Harry wanted nothing more than to take his brushes and start painting. _

_ “I was just thinking that my brother’s Godfather would certainly die if he saw the mess we made inside this bedroom. You know what kind of man he was.” _

_ Harry smiled in spite of himself. Louis Henri de Bourbon, Prince of Condé, died twelve summers ago. He couldn't care less of the state of his castle now. “It belongs to your brother now.” _

_ “And what would my brother say?” Louis grinned devilishly, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair gently. He bolted into a seating position, stealing a kiss from Harry in a simple peck. He hissed, probably because of the recent pain following their activities. Harry couldn’t help but grin. _

_ “You’re getting old, my Prince.” _

_ In retaliation, Louis clenched his fingers, tightening his hold in Harry’s hair. The latter gasped, biting down on his bottom lip. His grin was starting to hurt his cheeks. _

_ “I’d ask you to reconsider your manners, boy.” He threw himself at Harry, his warm body pinning Harry to the soft mattress. Soon enough, even his hands were restrained above his head. Louis’ mouth was hovering above his. Louis took a tentative lick, and Harry smiled against his mouth. _

_ “We are almost thirty.” He was whispering now, though they both knew they were the only people present in the castle. Louis’ youngest brother, age twenty now, had inherited the Château de Chantilly from his godfather when he was only eight years old. He never spent a day here, and he had kindly let Louis use this property as a safe haven. Nobody knew Henri Castagné was also there. _

_ “Are we?” Louis said in fake shock. “Time does fly, when we are in great company.” One of his hands released Harry’s, travelling down his arms to finally settle on Harry’s left cheek. There was so much adoration in Louis’ eyes, even after all these years, even after his marriage, even after he left for his duties. He always came back to Harry in the end. _

_ Even though Harry knew Louis would be leaving soon for Paris, he also knew the man would be leaving with his heart. As always. _

_ And he knew he would bring it back to him. As always. _

**♕♕♕**

“Hey El, do you think you can translate me the French Wikipedia page of Prince Louis?” Harry demanded over breakfast. It was only the two of them, Ben off to work and Matty still sleeping. His aunt was hanging clothes outside, in the backyard.

Ella smirked. “About your ex-lover you mean?” She giggled at Harry’s playful glare. “Sure. Wasn’t the English Wikipedia page enough?”

Harry shook his head. “His childhood section literally doesn’t speak about his childhood. I went to check the French version, and saw there were more details.”

“Obviously. Give me your phone.”

Harry obeyed, frowning. “Right now?”

Ella shrugged. “Yes, why not. Okay so…” She abandoned her toasts, and Harry felt bad for it. When he told her this could wait, she waved her hand. “Nonsense. Besides, now I am very curious about this man as well.” She had inquired about Harry’s Wikipedia page as well last night, and he had proudly shown her. “You want to know about his childhood?”

“About everything, really,” he chuckled, cheeks warming up.

Ella threw him a knowing look. “All right. I’ll do the big lines.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

She smirked. “I know. Okay, so, he was baptised on the 26th October of 1814, the day after he was born. It happened around midday, at the King’s chapel, at  _ Palais des Tuileries _ , in Paris.” It wasn’t written in the English version, but he could have guessed it. They always were baptised, weren’t they?

“Um, he received a great education, like his brothers, under the supervision of his father, the King himself. Then he was sent to a school, Henri-IV. He was however drafted very early into the army.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, at age 12 he became a colonel.”

Ella smiled without looking up from the phone. “You did your homework well. He was eleven years old when the Prince became a potential candidate for the throne in Greece. But it went to another dude.” Harry smiled at the use of ‘dude’. Sensing his train of thoughts, Ella glanced at him with a smile. “I don’t know how I would have survived during that period.”

“You probably lived it.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re probably right. I am glad I don’t remember it.” She looked back at the phone. “Mmh, let’s see… Blah, blah, blah… Even on the French Wikipedia page, they talk about his missions more than his personal life.”

“He was a reserved kind of guy.”

Ella smirked again. “You would know.”

“Heyyy!”

His cousin ignored him and continued. “When he came back to France after Gibraltar, he hurt his arm on his way. Thought you should know.”

“Poor him.”

“Okay, now we’re onto the marriage section.”

Harry sobered up. “I think I know the gist of it. Married a woman… He got kids, right.” Ella looked up at that, and maybe Harry’s sombre tone was obvious. “It was what it was,” he said with a shrug. “Go on then.”

“Erm, so he married that woman called  _ Victoire de Saxe-Cobourg-Kohary _ . It is said here that the wedding was ‘hardly prestigious’ because no endowment was paid for the occasion.” She huffed. “Royals. Can’t believe you put up with that.”

Harry bit his bottom lip. “Pretty sure I didn’t.”

Ella’s eyes went back and forth between him and the phone. “Oh. Erm… Then it talks about the tragic passing away of his older brother.”

Harry nodded, pushing his bottom lip out. “Yeah, I read about that.”

“Then it’s all about his exile in England after his father’s death and how he tried to reconcile two houses, and then he came back to France and died in Versailles. Guessed you read that, too?”

Harry nodded again. “Thanks, Ella. How many siblings did he have? I couldn’t really find out on the internet. It was all messy.”

“Umm,” Ella frowned, her thumb scrolling up and down. After a moment, she spoke, “I had to go on his mother’s page to find out. She and the King had ten children. Louis was the fourth child and second son. First, there was, Ferdinand-Philippe, the oldest, then Princess Louise-Marie, Princess Marie. And, um, after Louis there was, Françoise, Clémentine, François, Charles, Henri and Antoine.”

“Wow, holy shit.”

“Mm-mmh. It’s cute… They’re saying throughout her life, the mother was a symbol of loyalty towards her husband and kids. She apparently stayed away from politics as well. Smart woman.”

“Hey losers,” Matty exclaimed as he barged in the kitchen. Ella locked the phone and handed back to Harry, who gratefully took it. He smiled at her, mouthing a quick ‘Thank you’.

**♕♕♕**

_ “She wishes to marry that miserable British Lord.” _

_ “What are you going to do, Your Highness?” Harry laughed. “Forbid her to marry him?” _

_ Louis stayed silent, looking thoughtful. “If I have to.” _

_ Harry shook his head, tugging on his lover’s hand. He just wished he’d come back to bed already. “She is of marriageable age…” _

_ “I do not care.” _

_ “And you are getting grumpy with age, Your Highness.” _

_ Louis glared at him, squinting his eyes. There were wrinkles beside them now, but the lure in his eyes was still very much bright and young. “Do not remind me.” _

_ Harry laughed again, kissing the man’s hand. It wasn’t as smooth as before, now marked with time. Harry could hold those hands till the end of his days. “You don’t look a day over sixty, my dear.” _

_ “I am sixty-three.” _

_ “And yet you are pouting like a child. Come back to bed already.” _

_ “I’ve got S.S.B.M. business to attend still.” For four years now, Louis had been at the head of a  _ Société de Secours aux Blessés Militaires _, a humanitarian aid. Harry loved that Louis was now taking care of that matter. After the exile to England, the Duke had been looking for a whole new purpose in life._

_ “Well, I am hurt, Your Highness,” he said alluringly, smirking in satisfaction when Louis’ darkened eyes were finally focused on him. _

_ “You will be the death of me, Henri.” _

_ Harry grinned, and this time when he tugged on his lover’s hand, Louis went down easily. _

**♕♕♕**

“How are you feeling at the prospect of going back?” Ella asked her cousin, before adding, “For the third time?”

Harry plopped down on her bed, allowing himself a few seconds to think by biting into his apple. He had bought the fruit himself this morning, when he went to the local market with Dee and Ella. The boys had obviously stayed home. “I’m not sure,” he finally replied.

Tonight, they were going to the festival. The program was as follows: at 5pm, there was a discovery workshop of the instruments, and one hour and a half later, the concert would begin. Harry had never been to a classical concert, so he was actually really looking forward to that. Plus, the concert was held outside in the garden. It would be pretty beautiful with the stars watching the show from up there.

“Did you have any other dreams?”

Harry shook his head. “Not since the last three I told you about.” He started chewing on his mouth. “Do you think they’ll keep on coming, even after I return to England?”

Ella turned on her desk chair. She was doing her makeup, and only one of her eyes had been applied with eyeshadow. She pursed her lips, thinking her answer for a moment. “I don’t know, Harry.” She hesitated, then spoke again. “Maybe you should go see a hypnotist?”

“I was actually thinking that… But I’ve never been to one.”

“You do believe in hypnosis, right?” He nodded. “My friend, and I swear to God it’s true, was afraid of spiders. Even the tiniest ones. But like, she had a real phobia. She is proper cured now.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah, but she went to a French one?”

Ella turned back to finish her makeup. “I am sure you’ll find a good one in England. And who knows, maybe once you’ll leave France, they’ll be gone on their own?”

Harry didn’t know if he hoped she was right, or if he hoped she wasn’t.

**♕♕♕**

“Come on, the concert is about to start, El!”

Harry leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for his cousin to be done in the toilets. Ben hadn’t be gifted with patience and it made Harry laugh a little. It was a nice welcoming change with how he had been feeling for the past hour.

Ever since they went back to the Music Room, after observing the many instruments displayed for the occasion, Harry had been feeling a certain type of way. He couldn’t describe what it was. He just had that feeling… You know, that kind of feeling when you thought something was going to happen. He didn’t know what it meant and he hadn’t even looked at the painting, even if the temptation had been literally burning him.

“Okay, I’m done,” Ella announced, emerging from the toilets. “Dear brother, you really need to work on your patience. It is a virtue after all.”

_ “Patience, my love, is a virtue. You will see me soon.” _

“Harry? You comin’?” Ben said.

Harry exhaled. He had pushed himself off the wall, but he was still rooted to the same spot he had been. Ella and Ben were watching him expectantly, though Ella’s gaze was more fixed on him, her understanding clear.

“H?” she inquired, tilting her head. “You need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine.” He shook his head, wanting more than anything to get out of here. “Let’s go to our seats.”

**♕♕♕**

The concert became too much. Harry had to excuse himself, retiring to the interior of the castle. He hoped the music would fade and so he walked and walked until he found himself standing in that room, with that portrait.

Except, he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t expected to be alone, after all the castle was open for visitors even with the concert going on, but he thought everyone would be outside enjoying the festivities.

He was wrong.

There was a man standing in front of the portrait, and though Harry could only see the back of the head, he would recognise the hair anywhere. And when the man turned, as if the portrait literally came to life, or like Prince Louis himself had stepped out of the painting, Harry felt like his breath was punched right out of his lungs.

And this time he felt it, the earth shifting, the whole world changing… All his thoughts started scrambling inside his head and, with all the new information he was receiving, he feared for an instant that he was going to faint.

This could not be possible... 

Because the man in front of him right now was  _ Louis Charles Philippe Raphaël d’Orléans _ , in the flesh… As Harry lived and breathed. It could not be possible.

“Henri?” the person said. Harry’s heart fell into his stomach then. The man’s eyes were moving everywhere, eyeing Harry up and down with an expression of pure awe. He seemed like he couldn’t believe his eyes either.

“Louis?” he breathed out shakily. It was Louis. He didn’t exactly look like the Prince painted behind him, but it was close. Somehow, he looked even more beautiful. The man in front of him had straight hair combed to a quiff, but the cheekbones… The portrait didn’t do them justice. They looked so sharp, and the eyes… The eyes weren’t done justice either. They were so blue and currently shining with the same storm of emotions that Harry was feeling right now.

“Is it really you?” Harry asked and he didn’t even care that his voice was shaking. Has he gone totally crazy? Maybe he was all wrong and his dreams weren’t good. Maybe he was hallucinating now. Oh, fuck him.

Real Louis blinked, looking like he was at a loss of words. He somehow managed to snap out of it, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the painting. He looked back at Harry with a mouth open in an ‘o’. 

“I—I’m Louis, yes, but a different Louis.” He shut his eyes, shaking his head. “I mean, I think I was that Louis, but in this life, I am called Louis, too.” His eyes opened again, and he looked like he was regretting his words, probably realising how crazy it sounded. Except it wasn’t that crazy, was it?

“And I was Henri, but now I’m Harry,” Harry said, the end of his sentence finishing on a breathless, nervous chuckle. “I—I remember everything.”

Louis sounded as breathless as him when he answered, “So do I.”

Harry’s eyes started to burn and he didn’t know why until shortly he felt hot tears running down his face. He blinked them away, his vision going blurry a moment before his attention was focused on Louis again. He seemed in a similar state, distraught, incredulous, amazed.

Harry somehow was fully ready to welcome Louis in his arms when the latter took the few steps separating them. The boy almost crushed into his arms and it briefly made Harry lose his balance, but strong arms quickly took hold of him by the waist.

He felt Louis breath out heavily against his ear, his chin resting on his shoulder while Harry wrapped one arm around the boy’s waist, and the other around his neck. It should have felt strange, to hug a stranger, but it was the opposite.

In fact, Harry felt like coming home.

**♕♕♕**

He wasn’t sure how long they hugged, actually swinging on the spot, until eventually, they parted. They didn’t distance themselves very much, hardly at all. They were standing so close, Harry could see every single little detail of Louis’ face. His eyes were so blue, Harry legitimately thought he was going to fall into the sea any second now. His nose was so flawless. And Harry never noticed, but there were three little freckles by Louis’ mouth, almost forming a triangle.

“You’re even more beautiful than in Henri’s memories,” he said. His words were pulled out of him like every kiss so easily stolen by Prince Louis. He wasn’t even embarrassed by his words, or even surprised by his boldness. He wondered if it was because, in some way, he was Henri. Henri was never bashful with his lover.

But the Louis in front of him went red, he was biting his lips and he looked like he was going to laugh, an evident smile trying to break free. There were wrinkles by his eyes when eventually, Harry received the most bright and sweet smile he’d ever been blessed up with. “You’re not too bad yourself,” Louis replied cheekily.

Harry barked a laugh, shaking his head. He brought a hand to his mouth, still feeling completely stunned. “How is this possible?”

Louis was also laughing incredulously when he said, “I don’t know! I thought I was properly going crazy or summat.” Harry was so used to hearing Louis always speaking so formally, that it amused him to see him like that. And then he noticed, a second later… Louis had a Yorkshire accent. 

“You’re from Yorkshire!?”

Louis nodded a few times. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Where are you from?”

“Cheshire!”

Louis’ mouth was agape. “What, really!? It’s not even that far away!”

Harry was shaking his head, on the vedge of hysterically laughing. “You’re in France for holidays?”

“Yeah, I’ve got family over in Tours.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Harry stumbled backwards, and Louis’ hand flew to grab him, a quick look of alarm crossing his face.

“Sorry, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Harry rushed to reassure. He breathed out a faint laugh. “It’s just…”

“Very overwhelming, I know.” Louis gave him a compassionate smile, and Harry’s heart fluttered when he realised Louis was massaging the back of his hand with his thumb. He wasn’t sure Louis was even aware that he was doing it.

Harry’s eyes fell behind Louis, on the portrait of Prince Louis looking over them. “You were a Prince,” he breathed out, astounded. Would he ever get over this?

“And you were a painter,” Louis giggled. Softly, he added, “My favourite painter in the whole world.”

Harry looked back at him, gulping down his emotions. His heart wouldn’t stop hammering; it was so loud that it was a wonder Louis couldn’t hear it. “This is real?” he whispered, shaking his head. He thought he was going to get a herniated disk in his neck at this rate.

“It is, my love.”

Harry’s breath hitched and his eyes darted to Louis’ lips, marvelling at the sight. When he quickly glanced up, Louis was now also looking at his mouth. Of course he was. “Can I?” he asked.

“Please,” Harry exhaled in reply, nodding.

Louis grabbed his head, thumbs settling on each of his cheeks while his small and gentle hands cupped his neck. Harry felt his cheeks being caressed tenderly and a second later, warm lips were attached to his. 

He had been expecting it and yet Harry still let out an exhale like he had actually been waiting for that kiss for centuries. Maybe it was the case. Maybe their souls had been waiting for each other after all this time.

Harry promptly melted against the kiss, bringing Louis closer to him, against him, by wrapping two arms around his waist. Louis went easily, and when their mouths quickly parted away to get some air, he felt and heard Louis breath out against his lips. It was a low, faint whine, that Harry immediately swallowed by reconnecting their mouths together.

Oh yes, it felt like coming home.

**♕♕♕**

If it had been up to Harry and Louis, they would have stayed inside their bubble forever. However, while they were in the middle of another of their passionate kisses, someone cleared their throat.

They thereupon separated, snapping their heads towards the doorway. A young woman was standing there, with shoulder-length brunette hair. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking almost sorry to have disturbed the moment. “Je suis désolée, [ _ I am sorry _ ],” she said softly, “Nous fermons le château pour le reste de la soirée. [ _ But we are closing the château for the rest of the night _ .]”

“Oh, bien sûr, [ _ Oh, of course _ ],” Louis replied in an implacable french, perking up. (Was everybody else just good at French and Harry just terrible?) “Nous sommes désolés. [ _ We apologise _ .]”

The member of the staff nodded with a noticeable smile and moved to the next room, probably checking that it was empty and trusting the boys to leave right away.

Harry let his head fall onto Louis’ shoulder, a little bit mortified but not really caring either. He felt like with Louis by his side, he could do anything. He didn’t know if he was felt like he was floating because he was still pretty much wrapped in their bubble, but either way, it felt good.

“I should really get back to my family,” he noted, realising that he must have been gone for far too long.

“So should I,” Louis nodded, though his reluctance was audible. Harry was glad he was not the only one feeling this way.

A few minutes later, as soon as Harry and Louis put a foot outside, Ella was onto them. “Harry, where the hell have you been? I was worried sick!” She stopped in front of them, eyes darting a second to Louis before she fully goggled at him. “Oh my…”

Harry knew the feeling. “Ella… Meet Louis...”

Ella gasped loudly and that said something since the concert was still very much playing in the background. She was fully gaping and for a brief moment, Harry wondered if her jaw was going to fall to the ground. “This cannot be possible,” she almost yelped, bringing her hands to cover her mouth then.

Louis didn’t seem to mind the amazed look from Ella, and he glanced at Harry with a bashful smile, biting down on his lip. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Ella.”

“Oh, and you have a Northern accent,” she exclaimed in delight, dropping her hands.

Louis barked a laugh, and Harry felt enveloped in a warm blanket. He was far too gone already. (Were they were holding hands? Yep, they were.) “I’m from Doncaster,” Louis replied proudly.

Ella looked between the two of them, shaking her head in clear disbelief. Again, Harry knew the feeling.

“How is this possible?” she asked, turning her wide eyes on her cousin.

“Don’t ask us,” they both said in unison.

“That… is creepy,” Ella said slowly, before bursting into laughter. “But also… Amazing.”

**♕♕♕**

“So… How did it all start for you?” Harry asked later on, heart beating rapidly in anticipation.

They were seated in a booth inside a cosy café near the castle, a candle in the middle of their table. Harry had been able to count on Ella when she had to explain to her brothers why Harry had decided to stay behind. And Louis had assured his cousin, whom he had come with, that he wanted to just explore the surroundings. They were apparently living in Amboise itself, so Louis just had to walk home while Ella promised to pick Harry up with her car later. (He loved her so much.)

And here they were now. Harry was drinking his coffee while Louis had opted for a cup of tea. He had told Harry that he loved those the most, and coffee was generally something he would choose if he had no other choice. He scrunched his nose when he shared this information with Harry and it had been so endearing that he had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him on the nose.

“I visited the château a few days ago,” Louis started explaining. “With me sisters, mom, aunts and cousins.” Harry nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s funny because they’ve been living here for five years now, but they never visited it. And, erm, we were proper stunned when we saw the painting. My mom literally gaped at it the entire time.”

“I know the feeling,” Harry said with a little smirk.

Louis returned it. “Well, and me… I was a bit confused, and I was like, ‘Yeah ok, it does look like me.’ But I didn’t think much of it, you know? My aunt though, she started asking the tour guide all those questions! And in French! Now my French is alright you see, but I couldn’t follow everything.”

“And then me aunt was telling me all those facts about that Prince, and I was like, ‘Ok, cool, what a nice life he had…’ And by then, the rest of the group from the tour had taken an interest, noticing the resemblance. I felt like a tourist attraction. I love the attention, but not to that extent, you know.”

“Of course you do,” Harry smiled, shaking his head. He felt endeared by the way Louis talked. It was different from the other version he was used to. “You were a goddamn prince.”

Louis inhaled loudly, widening his eyes. “Fucking named by Louis XVIII himself, apparently. My aunt googled me.”

Harry chuckled. “God, I did the same.”

“You had a Wikipedia page as well,” Louis said with a bashful smile. “I spent way too many hours reading it.”

“It was not as garnished as yours, Your Highness.”

Louis grinned, but in his eyes, the title seemed to bring back many memories. Shared memories that Harry could picture as well. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmured.

Louis shook his head slowly. “Me neither… I feel like I’ve stepped into some sort of novel.” He looked down at his teacup, his fingers playing with it. “They kinda scared me a little, the dreams…”

“Me too…”

Louis looked up at him, and Harry saw his chest rise with how profound his inhalation was. “I… I don’t know why this is happening, or why it’s happened… But… I’m glad I’ve finally found you.”

Harry exhaled, putting his hand on top of Louis’ over the table. “Me too, Lou.”

Louis’ blue eyes flickered to their hands, a smile illuminating his face. “What about you?”

Harry took a breath and recounted everything, from beginning to end. Louis was attentive, nodding and smiling when he realised that they pretty much reacted the same way. They both lost themselves into their reading into the past… They didn’t have the same dreams exactly (Harry had tried not to dwell on the explicit ones), but they contained the same intention, feelings… Love.

At some point, Louis’ eyes went wide, as if coming to a realisation. “When are you going back to England?” His voice was faint, a frown between his eyebrows.

“Tomorrow morning…”

Louis fumbled with his pocket with the hand not holding Harry’s. He held out his phone and pushed it towards Harry.

The latter grinned, immediately entering his number. “That way we can still communicate,” he smiled, giving it back to Louis.

The former prince grinned and Harry felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “I sent you a text. And yes, we will. It’ll be much more different than the letters I used to send you.”

Harry’s face broke into a grin at the mention of letters. “I remember keeping them all.” His smile faded a little. “I wonder where they are now… No one ever suspected anything…”

Louis smiled sweetly. “It was our little secret.” And they had kept it till their dying breath. Harry shivered a little at the thought, still processing everything. He remembered his past life, remembered it so clearly it was becoming difficult to reconcile his two lives now. But what mattered the most was that he had found his way back to Louis.

“I’ve always loved you. I never stopped,” Harry whispered. Not even when Louis got married and Henri’s heart broke a little. Not even when Louis had to carry on his legacy by having kids. They stayed together through everything and Harry knew Henri didn’t regret one single thing.

“And I know I always will, my love,” Louis said in the same tone, young eyes still full of love, with that same light they’d always carried.

And when they both leaned forward, their lips connecting a moment after, it was like they could feel their souls reuniting.

_Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same._

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> I am being for real… This story comes from my imagination, but not entirely. I actually went to visit castles in La Loire, and I did visit that very castle. I did see a painting that captured my attention, and I did feel like I had known the guy. I may be crazy, but I do believe in reincarnation. I started wondering afterwards if, maybe, I had known that guy in the painting. LMAO, so… Yeah.
> 
> When I got home… I did exactly what Harry did. I googled the person, and read everything about him and the castle d’Ambroise.
> 
> Also Louis is literally Louis Charles Philippe Raphaël d'Orléans. You can look up his biography on wikipédia if you want. (Like Harry did, ha.) And I tried to write his story as historically as possible.
> 
> And then I wanted to write this fic. So… Here we are.
> 
> **Thank you for reading, hope you liked it.**
> 
> **Please, do not hesitate to leave a comment. :D I would very much like to hear your thoughts. I love reading all of them. And I will answer them as well. So yeah, kudos and comments would be very much appreciated! ^-^**
> 
> **Go read my other fics. Of course, it's not an order. Just an advice. Please. Pretty please? :D**
> 
> **[Click[here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/larrycaring/pseuds/larrycaring/works) to see and read all my other works!]**
> 
> **Twitter:**  
> [@larrycaring](https://twitter.com/larrycaring)  
>  **Tumblr:mystupidamours**


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